Playing Dirty

by Jamie Ann Denton

  Her body clenched around his as her cries coalesced into a moan so wild, so primal, it pushed him higher. He joined her on the precipice, and together they exploded into sweet oblivion. She milked him, her walls contracting around him, draining him, taking all he had to give.

  Afterward, their breathing returning to normal and their heart rates slowed, they dozed in each other’s arms. The last thing Ford remembered before drifting off to sleep again was that nothing in his life was more important than the woman beside him, and their daughter. He thought of the bastard who’d taken so much pleasure torturing him, and how much he’d love to be the one to end the son-of-a-bitch. But, as he hugged Mattie closer, he finally understood that no score was worth settling if the people he loved were hurt in the process.

  Eighteen

  FOR THE FIRST time since returning from Europe, Mattie was convinced she’d once again found peace in her life. Giving credit where it was due, Mattie conceded that Griffen had been right. She and Ford had needed to spend a weekend away, just the two of them. And in the two months following their trip to Possum Kingdom Lake, they’d been on the same page. For the first time in a long while, she’d even begun to feel hopeful of what the future might bring.

  She carried the last of the dirty dishes into the kitchen where Lily and Griffen worked in tandem between putting away leftovers and loading the dishwasher, then went back to the formal dining room for the table linens. A series of disappointed groans erupted in the family room where Ford, her dad and Austin were watching the Texas Wranglers lose their third straight game of the season. Phoebe lay sprawled on the floor near where Ford sat in the recliner, coloring. Jessie sat patiently in the corner of the kitchen by her food bowl, waiting for stray scraps. Every so often, she’d nudge her food bowl with her snout, just to remind them she wasn’t about to be dismissed on the treat front.

  Mattie stripped the table and returned the dining room to order before she joined Griffen and Lily in the kitchen. Her sister had finally come to terms with their father and Lily’s engagement, and now plans were underway for a New Year’s Eve wedding. During dinner, Phoebe had informed Lily that she was going to be the flower girl since she was qualified for the job, having held the position just that summer. Mattie had cringed at the reminder of her ill-fated wedding to Trenton, but Ford hadn’t even reacted, so she’d let it go.

  Griffen spooned the leftover pork gravy from the roasting pan into a reusable container. “Have you found a dress yet?” she asked Lily.

  “Not yet.” Lily snapped the lid closed on the container of leftover pork roast. “I’ll be in New York next week for a psychiatric conference and planned to look for something then.”

  “Mattie and I found this great little bridal boutique in downtown Dallas when we went dress shopping.” Griffen bent to tuck a container in the fridge, then slowly straightened, her hand pressed against her lower back.

  At six months pregnant, her sister was huge. Already experiencing low back pain and swollen ankles, she’d even complained that she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. Since they’d learned her sister was carrying twin girls, Mattie was hardly surprised.

  “Special orders weren’t an issue, either,” Griffen added. “They were fast and had a unique selection we hadn’t seen in the larger shops.”

  Lily’s eyes brightened. “Do you remember the name of it?” she asked Mattie. “At my age, traditional is not what I’m looking for.”

  “Not off the top of my head,” she said, ignoring the quick stab of guilt that momentarily pierced her conscience. “But the woman’s name was Ellen. Eleanor?” She shrugged. “I’ll see if I can find the receipt and text the information to you.”

  Lily settled her hand on Mattie’s arm, her soft blue-gray eyes filled with contrition. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was insensitive of me. Please forgive me.”

  “No. It’s fine,” Mattie said, but her gaze still strayed to the family room. While she might experience the occasional pang of guilt, she could honestly state the past no longer haunted her. The truth behind those horrific first years without Ford, the guilt because she’d married Trenton not knowing Ford was alive, the hell they’d all suffered was an integral part of her history. She couldn’t change the past, but she could accept it. In doing so, she no longer made herself crazy whenever someone mentioned her relationship with Trenton, or on those occasions when her mind strayed. She’d opted for acceptance and had been the better for it.

  She gave Lily what she hoped was a warm smile. “Really, it’s okay,” she reassured her. “We’re in a good place.”

  “Speaking of good places...” Griffen carefully eased herself onto one of the barstools at the breakfast bar. “Dad has been absolutely silent about honeymoon plans. Every time I ask him, he just gets this funny little smile on his face and won’t say a word.”

  “I hate when he does that,” Mattie added.

  “Me, too,” Griffen said. “Keeping secrets is his superpower.”

  “He’s insisting the location be a surprise and won’t say anything to me, either,” Lily told them. “But, he has asked me if my passport is up to date.”

  “British Isles. Dad’s always said he wanted to go back some day.” When Lily looked confused, Griffen added, “He spent his senior year in college at Oxford University. Oddly enough, that’s where he met our mother who was there studying English Lit.”

  “If you’re going to study Jane Austin, no better place to do it than England,” Lily said. “I have always dreamed of living in a castle in Scotland.”

  “I hear they’re drafty.”

  “And damp,” Mattie added. “Dad did tell you how they met, didn’t he?” Surely her father had discussed their mom with Lily. Granted, she knew from her own experiences that discussing one’s former spouse with the future spouse wasn’t always copacetic, but even Trenton had known about her and Ford’s life together. He’d also known, that until him, she’d never even been with another man except Ford.

  “I knew your parents met in college,” Lily explained. “But I just assumed he was talking about Baylor.”

  “Baylor’s where he went to med-school,” Griffen supplied.

  “Well, if he ends up taking you to Europe, then I highly recommend spending at least a few days in Paris,” Mattie suggested. “It’s worth the trip just for the chocolate. Oh, and the cheeses.”

  “The pastries,” Lily said, then let out a dreamy sigh. “I could live in Paris.”

  “You’ve been?” Griffen asked.

  “After my residency. My husband took me for a month. We spent a couple of days in Paris, but the real vacation was a rented villa in the French wine country. I did nothing but read books for fun, sleep and eat the most amazing food.”

  “Wow. That’s some vacation,” Griffen said.

  A serene expression softened Lily’s expression. “Adam was very good at grand gestures.”

  Mattie knew from her many conversations with Lily that she had been very much in love with her first husband. Adam Valdez had been a forensic psychologist and an academic who’d dropped dead from an aortic rupture seven years ago, while in the middle of his class on advanced abnormal psychology.

  “I’ve developed a fondness for French wines,” Mattie said. “I could go back to France just for the wine.”

  “Now there’s a good idea.” Lily tucked the last container with the leftover roasted potatoes in the fridge before she retrieved a half-full bottle of Bordeaux. “Join me?” she asked Mattie.

  Mattie closed the dishwasher and set the controls. “I’ll pass,” she said. “But you go ahead.”

  Griffen looked at her, her eyes narrowed. “Since when do you pass up a glass of wine?”

  “Hardly ever.” Her cheeks heated and she looked away.

  Griffen stared at her, then suddenly developed a big, goofy grin. “Oh. My. God.” She slid off the barstool with surprising agility, considering her size. “You’re pregnant.”

  “Would you please hush,”
Mattie said with a laugh. “I haven’t even told Ford yet.”

  She hadn’t been completely certain until a couple of days ago when she’d received the lab results confirming she was indeed going to have a baby. There was still the appointment with her gyno next week, but she figured she was due sometime around late April.

  Her sister circled the breakfast bar and pulled her into a hug. “Congratulations, Stinkerbell,” she said. “I’m so happy for you.”

  Mattie hugged her sister back. “Thank you.”

  The uncorked bottle of wine sat on the counter. “How long have you known?” Lily asked, reaching for a glass from an upper shelf.

  Mattie rested her backside against the sink. “Only a couple of days.” She was still coming to terms with it in her own mind. “I’ve been getting used to the idea.”

  “Typical,” Griffen said on her way back to the barstool. “Have you been trying?”

  “We weren’t doing anything to prevent it, that’s for sure.” Since the day they’d returned from that weekend at the lake house, their marriage had resumed in every sense of the word. Ford had moved into the master suite with her and other than those times when he was required to remain on base, he was sleeping beside her every single night. After she’d asked him to make a baby with her, he’d been very single-minded in his determination to grant her request.

  Not that she was complaining. In her mind, they were solid, so why not add to their family? She’d always wanted more children, and they weren’t getting any younger, so it didn’t make sense for them to wait.

  “Prevent what?” Ford asked as he walked into the kitchen and headed for the fridge.

  Griffen giggled.

  Mattie rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “I swear, Griff. You’re twelve-years-old again, aren’t you?”

  Ford took a bottle of water from the shelf before he closed the refrigerator door. “What am I missing here?” He shot her a curious look.

  Lily poured herself some wine. “You know,” she said to Griffen as she set the stopper back in the bottle. “We should probably join your father. Maybe we can even catch Jed’s commentary on the post-game show,” she said, then gave Mattie’s hand a quick, reassuring squeeze.

  Ford twisted the cap off the bottle of water. “What’s going on?” He approached her, his gaze intently searching her face.

  At that moment, the doorbell chimed. Mattie considered putting off answering Ford’s question until later when they were alone, but from the sly smile beginning to curve his mouth, she had a feeling he’d already put the pieces of this particular baby puzzle together.

  He set the bottle on the counter, then braced his hands on either side of her, trapping her within his arms. His big body surrounded her. “Or are you going to make me guess?” His gaze dipped to her breasts that were already starting to swell, even though she was barely two months pregnant. He hiked an eyebrow.

  “If you must know,” she said, “You knocked me up again, sailor.”

  He actually looked stunned for all of five seconds before a big ol’ smile slid across his face. “You’re sure?”

  She nodded. “After two home pregnancy tests and an official one from the lab, yes. I’m absolutely sure.”

  “Hot damn.” He kissed her. Hard and quick. His arms went around her, pulling her close. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. “I love you,” he said, then kissed her again, this time slowly, tenderly, thoroughly.

  By the time he ended the kiss, her toes were curling inside her suede boots. She smiled at him. “I take it you’re pleased?”

  He brushed his lips over hers again. “I’ve never been happier,” he said. “No morning sickness this time?”

  “So far, so good,” she said. The first six months of her pregnancy with Phoebe, she’d suffered from around the clock morning sickness. She’d essentially lived on ginger ale and crackers, with the occasional bowl of chicken noodle soup.

  “Maybe it’s a boy.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “We’ll find out soon enough. I’ll have a sonogram around Christmas time.”

  She rose up on her tiptoes to kiss him, but her plans were derailed when her dad appeared and cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Ford, you have a visitor.”

  Curious, Mattie frowned as she stepped out of Ford’s embrace, then followed him to the foyer. Her feet stopped moving the second she spied the dark fabric of a Naval uniform.

  Heart pounding, she struggled for breath as she looked into the face of her worst nightmare. “No,” she whispered as Paul Ravelli shook Ford’s hand. She reached for the wall, certain her legs no longer had the strength to support her. “No.”

  “Mattie,” Paul Ravelli said with a curt nod in her direction. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening.”

  She barely registered his words, just the fact that he was in uniform told her loud and clear this visit was not a social one. That past she’d claimed to have made peace with reached up and slapped her across the face. Hard. Hard enough to rip away her composure. Hard enough to leave her emotions brittle. She clung to the wall, dead certain if she let go, she’d slide to the floor where she’d curl into a ball and shut out the world around her.

  Ford made the introductions and she couldn’t fathom why he would do such a thing. In her mind, Paul Ravelli was the enemy. His very presence scared the crap out of her.

  “Why are you here?” she demanded, but the words came out on a hoarse whisper of sound she barely recognized as her own voice. He should have called, but that wasn’t Paul’s style. When he had devastating news to deliver, he preferred to do it in person.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw the rest of her family gathering. “Mommy?” Phoebe called out to her, but Griffen held the girl by the shoulders to keep her from rushing forward.

  Paul ignored them all and looked at Ford. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

  “My study,” her father offered.

  Her gaze shot to her dad. What was he thinking? Why was he letting the man who’d delivered such a devastating, not to mention erroneous, blow to his daughter inside his home? She knew she was being irrational, but the shock of seeing Paul had thrown her for a loop.

  “This way.” Ford turned to her, concern lighting his expression. “Will you be all right?”

  Somehow, she found the strength to nod. Her dad moved in beside her and took hold of her wrist in a surreptitious move to check her pulse. She wasn’t going to drop dead, if that’s what he was worried about, but she couldn’t be so sure about the continued good health of Commander Paul Ravelli. If he was there for the reasons she suspected, she just might commit violence. She could not, would not, permit him to tear their family apart again.

  “Dad,” she murmured as she extricated herself from his scrutiny. She looked at her daughter, who stared at her all wide-eyed. “I’ll be right back. You stay with Granddaddy.”

  She waited until Phoebe nodded, then took off down the hall for her father’s study, barging into the room without bothering to knock. Ford glanced her way, and in that one quick glance, she saw the truth—he was leaving.

  Paul stood from his place on the leather sofa. “Mattie, I’m sorry, but this discussion is classified.”

  She quietly closed the door. “Classify this,” she said and flipped Paul the bird.

  “Mattie.”

  She ignored the warning tone in Ford’s voice. “You’re in my house now,” she said as she approached the desk that had once belonged to her Grandfather Hart. She parked her bottom against the old, scarred mahogany surface and crossed her arms, giving Paul a hard stare. “If you have something to say to my husband, then you can damned well say it in front of me.”

  “Very well,” Paul said, returning to his seat. “We have an intel report that indicates an American serviceman is alive and being held in a terrorist training camp deep inside Syrian territory.”

  “Is that the same intel that told you my husband had been killed five years
ago? Because we all know how reliable that turned out to be.”

  “Matt, come on.”

  “No,” she shot at Ford. Her insides were quaking and she didn’t think the trembling would ever stop. “You don’t get to tell me anything right now.”

  A muscle ticked in Ford’s jaw, but he could suck it. She really didn’t give a rat’s ass that she was being rude or irrational. Paul had come here, to her father’s home, to take her husband away from her again. No way in hell was she going to make this easy—on either of them.

  Paul picked up the heavy crystal tumbler on the table in front of him and took a drink of the amber liquid. “Did you hear the reports of the two journalists who were recently beheaded?” At her nod, he added, “What the public did not see was the American in the background.”

  “More journalists? She asked. “Aid workers.” Anyone but a fellow serviceman.

  Paul shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” He finished off his drink as if he needed the fortification. “It’s Gus McMillan.”

  “Are you implying he was a willing participant in a public execution?” Ford asked.

  Paul shifted his attention to Ford. “We’re not implying.”

  Mattie found that news hard to believe. The only person she knew who was more red, white and blue than Ford was Gus McMillan. The man she’d known had lived, ate and breathed the stars and stripes. He’d also been one of the most dedicated members of the SEAL team.

  “How can you be so certain?” she asked. “Maybe he’s doing whatever he has to in order to survive.” God knew if that were the case, she understood. Over the past two months Ford had told her more about his time away from her, and none of it had been pretty.

  Paul’s expression remained grim. “We’re certain.”

  Which meant there was more intelligence than he was willing to share with a civilian like her. “And you’re here because...”